


Unhesitating

by tastewithouttalent



Category: Ouran High School Host Club - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, Domestic, Established Relationship, Hand Jobs, M/M, No Plot/Plotless, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Tattoos, Yakuza
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-15 14:50:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,606
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15415380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastewithouttalent/pseuds/tastewithouttalent
Summary: "Taking Ritsu’s hand was like being led into sunlight, like being guided through a door Tetsuya couldn’t see and into a world he didn’t know existed." There's nothing Tetsuya loves more than the chance to be at Ritsu's side.





	Unhesitating

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Dipuc (TomAyto10)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TomAyto10/gifts).



Tetsuya loves being with Ritsu.

He always has. From the first moment he looked up from a rainy sidewalk to meet a steady gaze under a brow creased with concern for a total stranger, Tetsuya has never felt as warm as when he’s with Ritsu. His family always carried shadows in it, a darkness and a judgment that Tetsuya was never able to shake no matter how he fought against it; taking Ritsu’s hand was like being led into sunlight, like being guided through a door Tetsuya couldn’t see and into a world he didn’t know existed. It was no choice at all to stay, no difficulty to give up everything that Tetsuya had been, the identity that had never been more than a burden to him; being able to stay at Ritsu’s side was enough, always, whether it was as his servant or his friend or his lover, later, when Tetsuya found himself gifted with more than he could have ever dreamed of on that first meeting.

He loves it still, even now. It’s been long years since that first day, that meeting that so altered the entire trajectory of his life; but Tetsuya has stayed where he began, close enough to Ritsu’s side to ensure that he will always be there if needed, if wanted. Ritsu’s shoulders have gotten broader as Tetsuya’s hair has gotten longer, and they’ve both added the spills of color and ink laid into the designs that are Ritsu’s birthright, as the heir of what will be his family, someday; but Ritsu is still Ritsu, as Tetsuya is still what Ritsu showed him he could be, and Tetsuya thinks there’s no power on earth that could take him from the side of the man who has become so central to every aspect of his existence. There’s a pleasure to being at Ritsu’s side in negotiations, while maneuvering the delicacy of diplomacy that Tetsuya can almost taste in the air and Ritsu is just beginning to claim for his own; there’s a comfort to the domestic pleasures of rich meals, and hot baths, and the long, deep sleep that comes for them when they have each other close within reach. But there’s a special brightness to the more physical intimacies, those formed in the sweat of their bodies and the flex and strain of muscle working over each other, and Tetsuya is always happy to lay claim to those moments of blinding brightness that the title of _lover_ grants him.

They’re in Ritsu’s bed, now; or Tetsuya’s bed, the names are synonymous when their futons are drawn as close together as they are and sharing a single blanket. They will collapse down to the support later, Tetsuya is sure, after they have lingered in the spray of a shower and the drawn-out pleasures of a hot bath; but for now there’s still tension between them, still the sharp edge of want pulled taut in the air in the room until Tetsuya imagines he can taste it alongside the salt on his tongue, the tang and bite of desire so heady in the air it’s like wine turned to heat, intoxication for the breathing rather than warming the throat and curling to pleasure in one’s belly. Tetsuya doesn’t need the aid of wine to warm him in any case; he has tension enough for himself, tight down in the depths of his stomach and spiking higher with every forward motion of his hips and every flex of Ritsu’s body clenching involuntary reaction around him.

“Breathe,” he reminds Ritsu, now, as the other’s inhales start to climb to strangled heights in time with his fingers fisting against the sheets upon which they’re kneeling. Ritsu’s tattoo-printed shoulders are straining with his effort, the ink pulling and stretching with his movement until it looks alive, like it’s expanding and contracting on some force all its own, or maybe as if it’s the tattoo that Tetsuya is stroking towards heat with the drumbeat-steady force of his cock driving into Ritsu under him, leaving Ritsu himself to follow in helpless obedience to the cresting demands of arousal in his inked body. The idea is pleasant against the dizzy distraction of Tetsuya’s thoughts; it brings his own shoulders curling in farther, tipping forward as if to shadow over Ritsu’s ink-marked skin as his hands bracing the other’s hips tighten to balance him against the motion. “You don’t have to fight for it.”

Ritsu lets out his breath in a gusty exhale. Tetsuya can feel the easing around him for a moment, as if the fist-tight press of Ritsu’s body clenching at him is uncurling; then he thrusts forward again, and Ritsu groans and seizes hard against Tetsuya’s length once more.

“Sorry,” Ritsu gasps, and turns his head down against the blankets under him so the weight of his undone hair falls forward to hide his features. His fingers tighten convulsively, fisting at the sheets before he lets his hold go with desperate intent. “I don’t know how you do it.”

“Practice, mostly,” Tetsuya smiles at Ritsu’s strained shoulders. “It’s fine, though.” He lets one of his hands ease at Ritsu’s hip so he can reach up instead to catch his fingers at the other’s scarlet hair and stroke it back off the corded tendons at his neck. Ritsu goes slack for a moment under him, startled into relaxation again for a heartbeat before the rhythm of Tetsuya fucking him brings the strain surging back. “It’s not a problem for _me_. You don’t need to apologize for that.”

Ritsu turns his head, partially in answer to Tetsuya’s words and partially to the suggestion of the other’s touch urging gently at his hair. When he looks up over his shoulder Tetsuya can see the weight of his lashes hanging heavy over his usually clear gaze, can see the flush of heat darkening the other’s habitual frown into something closer to a pout as he looks back. “You don’t mind it?”

Tetsuya gusts an exhale not quite tight enough to be a laugh, with the heat in his chest to unwind the strain into languid pleasure. “Not at all.” He moves through a slow stroke, taking his time over the movement so he can feel the friction of it hum up his spine and flex against the muscle of his shoulders. “It feels good, to be honest.”

“Oh,” Ritsu breathes. There’s color flushing his face with the shading of self-consciousness, tension setting itself against the line of his lips, but when he turns his head down to the pillows Tetsuya thinks it’s more to hold back the smile at his mouth than anything else. “I guess I’m glad, then.”

Tetsuya smiles. “You should be,” he says, soothing with the words as he trails his fingers down Ritsu’s spine to stroke against the line between his shoulderblades and along the flex of his back under the curves of ink marking themselves into his skin. Tetsuya moves again, savoring the strain of answering tension in the muscles under his touch as much as the heat that winds through his body. “I always like being with you.”

“Yeah?” Ritsu ducks his head against the sheets; his hands tighten at the blankets beneath them, curling to fists for a moment while he collects words against the space of the strain in his chest. Tetsuya keeps moving, steady and unhesitating; whether Ritsu finds words or not, the pleasure is the same, warm and heavy in the air, a fog to fill their lungs and haze their vision and earn them a space separate and distinct from the rest of the world, even if just for an hour. Tetsuya could stay like this forever, he thinks, could give away the rest of the details and experiences that make up his life in exchange for this simple pleasure, the heat of satisfaction shared between Ritsu’s body and his own; the idea is warming even now, it glows against the inside of his chest like a secret pressing itself to the shape of his breathing as he keeps moving, stoking the rising wave of tension in him with unhurried langour. Finally Ritsu takes a breath, pulling it into his lungs with force enough that Tetsuya hears the effort on it without trying, and Tetsuya reels himself back in from the wandering paths of fantasy to turn his attention instead to whatever Ritsu has to say.

“Do you like this better?” Ritsu is speaking down to the blankets but he turns his head as he gives voice to the question, tipping himself against the pillows so he can blink against the weight of his hair falling across his face. His shoulders tense, relax under the weight of Tetsuya’s touch. “Being on top?”

Tetsuya hums in the back of his throat. “I like it,” he says. He lifts his hand from Ritsu’s back to stroke through the other’s hair, to urge it back again from the curtain into which it’s fallen. “I like bottoming for you too.” He leans forward to curve in over Ritsu’s back, to shape his body into a crest over the form of the other’s as he gains strength for the movement of his hips, for the thrust of his cock into the other. “I like all of it.”

Ritsu makes a sound in his throat that sounds like a growl and that Tetsuya recognizes as a whimper. “You don’t care?”

Tetsuya shakes his head. “It’s different,” he allows. “I like having you over me, when you’re pushing me down against the bed and I know everything I’m feeling is what you want, is what feels best for you.” He slides his hand down Ritsu’s back, mapping out the lines of the other’s tattoo to bring his fingertips down to the base of the other’s spine, the dip of bone just above the angle of Ritsu’s upturned hips and the curve of his ass, where the lines of his tattoo give way to pale skin. “I like when you’re underneath me and I can take you at whatever pace I like, as deep as I want you to go.” His hand comes around to catch at Ritsu’s hip, to fit his fingers in at the indentation of muscle cutting a diagonal down just over the top line of his thigh. “I like having your hands on my body and your breath on my neck. I like the way you taste in my mouth and the way it feels to be inside you.” His fingertips trail against the path of that muscle, following it along Ritsu’s hip down to the straining heat of the other’s cock flexing up into open air. “I like it when you come.”

Ritsu coughs over a laugh, amusement turning to heat in his chest as Tetsuya’s fingers feel out the shape of his balls before drawing up the shaft of his cock. His hips come forward in answer to the friction, his thighs bucking him in against the possibility of the other’s hand, and Tetsuya tightens his fingers into a grip in obedience to the suggestion, wrapping his hold close around Ritsu’s length as the other rasps over a breath. “Do you really?”

“Yes.” Tetsuya leans in closer still, tipping himself in until his chest is flush against Ritsu’s spine, until their bodies are pressing close together from hip to shoulder. His mouth fits at the back of the other’s neck, just under the fall of his hair, and Tetsuya touches a kiss there with careful attention. His grip on Ritsu’s length draws up, sliding gentle friction over untouched skin and pulling a moan from the other’s throat along with the flex of pressure as his body tightens against Tetsuya’s cock inside him. “I don’t think there’s anything in this world as beautiful as you coming, Ritsu.”

“Fuck,” Ritsu groans, sounding like he’s struggling for the word. “Tetsuya.”

“It’s true,” Tetsuya says. “You’re so lovely, Ritsu.” He presses another kiss against the tension forming at the back of Ritsu’s neck as he twists his wrist to fall into a rhythm of stroking over the heat of the other’s cock. “I’m never as happy as when I’m with you.”

Ritsu rasps over a breath, the sound wordless but carrying meaning enough for all that. Tetsuya can feel his hips buck, can feel Ritsu’s body tensing under his; he keeps going all the same, pumping his hips into the smooth rhythm of heat within the other’s body as his hand flexes and pulls against Ritsu’s length. It’s an easy rhythm, formed as much on instinct as out of strict attention to what he’s doing, but Ritsu is drawing taut under him all the same, his spine curving and his thighs trembling as his cock tightens in Tetsuya’s hand, as his body clenches reflexively around Tetsuya’s length.

“Beautiful,” Tetsuya murmurs, speaking the words almost to himself as his mouth presses to Ritsu’s neck. Ritsu’s chest is flexing hard on his breathing, Tetsuya can feel it against him as much as he can hear the strain on the sound; his own heart is beating faster in answer, as if it’s following Ritsu’s lead in this as easily as Tetsuya has always followed wherever Ritsu wanted to take him. Heat is building between them, aching in the depths of Tetsuya’s stomach and trembling against the line of Ritsu’s shoulders, until Tetsuya doesn’t know if it’s Ritsu’s pleasure or his own that he’s striving towards, doesn’t know that there is any real difference between the two in any case. “Ritsu, you’re incredible.”

Ritsu groans in the depths of his chest, a raw sound that would be protest at another time. Right now it just sounds desperate, the flex and pull of need sounding from something too deep in him to be restrained. “Tetsuya,” he grates out, his voice turning Tetsuya’s name to smoke. “I’m…” as his fingers twist on the sheets, as his arm flexes hard enough to lift muscle taut under skin, to urge his shoulder to strain under Tetsuya’s chest. “ _Tetsuya_.”

Tetsuya hums warmth over the cording strain at the back of Ritsu’s neck. “So good,” he murmurs, letting his voice drop to the depths of heat, to a smouldering glow like winter firelight. “Ritsu, you feel so good.” His hips keep working, his body cresting in time with the movement of his hand; it’s pure instinct, now, the simple physical need of the pleasure building in him, of heated bodies striving together for friction, for heat, for release. Tetsuya gasps a breath, tastes Ritsu’s sweat salt-sweet on his lips, spills it to a groan of heat against the other’s hair. “You look so good.” Ritsu’s whole body is shaking from the effort of holding them up, from the strain of arousal in him, from the friction Tetsuya is pouring over him; Tetsuya can feel the force of it in Ritsu’s cock in his grip, in the heat swelling so strong against his fingers and hardening even the soft swell of the other’s cockhead under his touch. Tetsuya closes his grip the tighter at Ritsu’s hip, steadies his knees against the soft of the futon, and when he pulls up over the other’s length he takes the full stroke, tightening his grip to pull long over the slick sensitivity at the head. Ritsu’s shoulders arch, his back strains to push hard against Tetsuya over him, to flex at the weight against him; and then he rasps over a low, shattered sound, and his cock pulses with the surge of heat as he comes against Tetsuya’s stroking fingers.

The force is entire. Tetsuya can feel it rippling along the whole of Ritsu’s spine and quaking in his thighs as much as spilling from his cock; and around his own length there’s the same force, the rhythmic flex of Ritsu’s orgasm breaking itself against the resistance of Tetsuya inside him. Tetsuya gasps a breath, feels the strain of it cresting to a peak at the back of his head; and then Ritsu flexes around him, and Tetsuya gives up the pressure in him in one long, helpless convulsion of pleasure. His mouth is open, his chest is working, sound is spilling from his lips against the back of Ritsu’s neck, but Tetsuya can’t hear it for the roaring in his ears as he spends himself within the flexing strength of Ritsu’s body working around him.

Tetsuya’s gazing at the red of Ritsu’s hair when he comes back to himself. The instinctive movement of his hips and hand have eased, fallen still somewhere in the rush of heat that swept over the both of them; they’re quiet now, Tetsuya’s fingers sticky and Ritsu’s breathing ragged and both of them kneeling on shaky legs over the futon beneath them. Tetsuya looks at Ritsu’s hair for a long minute, his attention wandering across the tangle of the strands with idle interest as his breathing eases and his heartrate slows, and then he takes a breath to collect himself and turns his head to press his forehead to the other’s shoulder.

“I’m going to pull out,” he says against Ritsu’s skin. “Hold on.” He moves slowly, easing himself back and out of the other’s body, but Ritsu still huffs a gusting exhale at the pull, tightening against Tetsuya as the other draws free of him. Tetsuya steadies himself over his knees, gathering his balance back under his own keeping instead of leaning over Ritsu, and then he loosens his grip to draw sticky fingers away from the other’s length. Ritsu stays where he is for a moment, balanced over his knees and the support of his arms; it’s only when Tetsuya rocks back over his heels that Ritsu lets himself topple onto his side with a groan.

Tetsuya huffs a breath, his exhale pulling taut around the quirk of a smile at his lips. “Are you okay?” Ritsu is flushed across his face and down along the tops of his collarbones, his arms stretched out slack before him; his hair is a mess around his face, tangled by the sheets until it is casting shadows over the familiar lines of his features. Tetsuya leans forward to touch against the fall of it and smooth the strands back behind the other’s ear. “You look like you could do with a shower before bed.”

Ritsu groans. “Yeah, probably,” he allows, but he’s shutting his eyes at the touch of Tetsuya’s fingers, and he doesn’t look like he has any intention of moving to lift himself from the futon in the near future. With his hair pushed back from his face and his expression relaxed he looks far younger than he usually does, as if giving up the tension he usually holds at his forehead and against the line of his mouth has aged him back by years. “That feels good.”

Tetsuya smiles. “I’m glad.” He slides himself sideways so he’s kneeling on the blankets in front of Ritsu instead of halfway behind him; with the better angle he can reach all the way to the back of Ritsu’s head as he strokes the other’s hair away from his face and works the knots free of the strands. Ritsu turns his head up, following the motion of Tetsuya’s fingers like a flower seeking out sunlight, and Tetsuya keeps going, working through Ritsu’s hair as the minutes slide past unnoticed.

Tetsuya is lost in the rhythm of his motion, caught up in the urging of his fingers and the shift of Ritsu’s hair parting before his touch; he thinks he might stay there all night, left to his own devices. But then Ritsu takes a breath, the sound startlingly loud against the silence soaking into the room, and when Tetsuya blinks back into awareness of himself Ritsu is looking up at him, his eyes open and his gaze fixed fully on Tetsuya over him. They gaze at each other for a moment, Tetsuya’s fingers still in Ritsu’s hair and Ritsu’s forehead creased on intent, before Ritsu finally speaks.

“I love you.” The words are rough, hurried past his lips like he’s rushing over them, or like he’s trying to get them out before he’s interrupted. Ritsu’s cheeks darken to red, his mouth tenses on focus, but he doesn’t look away from Tetsuya’s eyes, even if his lashes flutter with the thought of it.

Tetsuya’s mouth curves onto a smile, the expression spreading warm across his face without any thought in his head at all. He pushes his fingers back farther into Ritsu’s hair to hold the weight of it back from the other’s features even as his shoulders curve to tip him in closer towards the man sprawling across the futon before him.

“I know,” he says. “I love you too, Ritsu.”

Ritsu gusts an exhale as if he’s letting some tension free, as if there’s any surprise at all to hearing the familiar truth of the words on Tetsuya’s lips. “Good.” He lifts his hand at once, reaching out over the distance between them to catch his hand at the back of the other’s neck. His fingers land at Tetsuya’s tied-up hair to pin the fall of it to the other’s shoulders; when his arm flexes Tetsuya curves in towards him, giving in to the urging even if it’s more unconscious than otherwise. “I’m glad.”

Tetsuya can’t stop smiling and he doesn’t try to any more than he gives up his hold at the back of Ritsu’s head. “Yeah,” he says. “Me too.” And he ducks in over the last inches to answer the question at Ritsu’s parted lips with the unhesitating weight of a kiss.


End file.
